The Deep Blue Eyes
by Trainer Butts
Summary: She opened her eyes and found herself staring up at the deep blue ones, the ones she had only ever seen from a distance. The ones that her father had taught her to fear. The deep blue ones that had haunted her, since she was barely six. oneshot


_Claimer: I own Chance and the character revolving around her._

_Disclaimer: However, I do not own anything else. ___

Chance O'Rien: waitress by day… _undercover spy_ by night.

She had seen him coming a few hours ago: anybody could tell him apart from the rest. His hair was too dark, too pointy, too strange. She had forgotten he was near, though, for a few hours. He had come in sometime past noon, not even bothering to cover his hair or change his clothes. Chance hadn't been ready: she was pulling her skitty from one of the table legs. She hadn't heard the little bell jingle when he came in.

He tapped on her shoulder, and she stood up, automatically begging his forgiveness. If her boss ever found out that she was goofing off on the job…

She opened her eyes and found herself staring up at the deep blue ones, the ones she had only ever seen from a distance. The deep blue ones that her father had taught her to fear. The deep blue ones that had haunted her, since she was barely six.

He was shadowed by two shorter men; both of them were identical, with their aqua-colored hair and chainmail-like attire. The fluorescent yellow 'G' stood out like a sore thumb.

"Excuse me, Miss, could you tell me the way to the Celestic Ruins?" he inquired, his eyes glazed over with a lack of interest. She looked away, unable to look into his eyes. Her heart was beating a hundred miles an hour. Here was her chance. She could give him the old one-two… but she didn't know karate. She could give him false directions and lead him into a trap… but she had nothing planned. She could… give him directions…

And that she did. "Sure, just head right on out of town, to the north, and keep going straight 'til you reach a rickety old bench near a huge oak tree. Turn left, and you'll have just a few minutes' walk when you'll reach a quiet old town. The ruins are right in the middle of there; it's near impossible to miss."

"Would I be able to reach there by dusk?"

She stored that in the back of her mind. "If you walk fast enough, you'll be able to get there by four."

He grabbed her face forcefully and turned her back, so she was facing him. He searched her eyes for some sign that she might be lying. They were a lighter shade of blue, almost a gray. She couldn't breathe. What was he going to do?

A moment passed, and he let her go, almost smiling, almost looking grateful. The entire time, the two behind him stayed still, staring straight ahead, as if they were robots or something. She could tell they weren't, though. She could see them breathing, she could tell they were blinking.

"Thank you, miss… Chance O'Rien…" he murmured, turning to leave. His followers tuned in unison. She fell to the ground, having had all of her weight supported in his hands. She was stunned into stillness, silent until he was almost out the door.

"Wait…" she called weakly, staring blankly ahead. He didn't turn, he merely stopped. "How did… how did you know my name?"

How _did_ he know her name? Had she somehow been found out during one of her spy sessions? Had the stalker become the stalked? Had he… known what was going on, the entire time?

He let out a little sound of irritation, before turning his head, ever so slightly, towards her. "You're wearing a nametag," he answered bluntly, before walking out the door, followers a few steps behind. She watched as he left, before her skitty's frightened mew pulled her back into reality.

She found her skitty hiding behind a chair, in such a place that if he took a wrong step, the skitty would have been stepped on. She held her skitty close, reassuring it that everything would be okay.

"I won't let them get you, Skitty," the girl cooed softly, stroking her pokémon's head, "not like Father's clefairy…"

She slumped against the wall, remembering her father's distraught expression coming home from work that day. _Men with remarkable hair came and took away Clefairy, _he had said, _and I couldn't stop them…_

Her father left a few weeks later, claiming that he wouldn't return unless his clefairy was safe in his arms. That was several years ago, and since then neither she nor her mom had caught sign of him.

Her skitty mewed again, causing her to snap out of her flashback. The skitty looked serious, almost a comical expression on such a small cat's face.

Chance looked at her skitty; the skitty seemed to be giving her instructions. A few moments later, the skitty finished. "Wait… you're saying I should… beat them to the ruins? See what they want?" she repeated, not sure if she heard her skitty right. The small cat-like pokemon gave an affirmative nod, before snapping her attention to the door.

The girl let out a shocked little squeak, jumping to her feet and sprinting behind the counter, trying to look busy. The glass door jingled, and another girl came in. The newcomer cast a glance at Chance, not buying for one moment that she was working the entire time. "Chance, shift's up," the newcomer murmured, jumping over the counter. Chance pretended to wipe the sweat from her brow, before quickly swiping her card and discarding her apron. Her skitty followed suit, and soon the duo was running down the path towards their home.

-xxx-

Less than an hour flew by, and she stood in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection. Her short, ash blond locks were tied into a stubby ponytail, mostly hidden by a black hood. She wore a black hooded t-shirt, along with fingerless gloves that reached about to her elbow. She had to be stealthy and blend into the shadows, yes, but she couldn't possibly keep up if she was sweating up a storm. On her lower half, she wore loose, dark-gray slacks and dark blue sneakers.

Her skitty stood next to her, almost terrified of her owner's sudden change of apparel. But she had been seen like this before. It was several years ago, but she had already worn this.

A few Junes prior, Chance had begun to notice the amount of strange men with aqua hair and wearing chainmail-like outfits. Curious, she followed one of them after work one day. They didn't notice her, and led her straight to their hideout in Veilstone, a huge city right near her own little town. One of them was different than the rest: his hair was a darker blue, he looked like he was in charge of the rest. She knew him from her father's descriptions: he had taken his clefairy.

Since then, Chance had been following them by night, taking notes as to what they were doing. They seemed to be after plates of some sort, and almost anything having to do with everything in the universe. The pointy-haired one was always taking orders from somebody called 'Cyrus', talking into his ear-chip with a blasé look on his face.

But as summer left, so did they. At once, they seemed to disappear. She floundered about helplessly, trying to find where they had gone. They were gone. They left, without a trace.

That was then. Now they were back.

And Chance knew what she had to do.

-xxx-

"Commander Saturn, we're here," she heard one of the aqua-haired followers announce, although it had to be pretty obvious. She knew that it wasn't too hard to notice the giant 'Celestic Ruins' sign just a few inches away.

"Very well," he responded, slightly amused. "Guard the entrance."

Chance sighed happily. She was already inside, so she wouldn't be kept out.

She'd been there almost all day, shuddering from anticipation. She had with her the only two pokemon to her name: a skitty and an aipom. Even if they couldn't do much in battle, perhaps they oculd defend against his pokemon while she attacked him.

He walked at an even pace, never slowing or speeding up. Before long, however, it became too dark to see. He tossed a pokeball in the air quickly, so quickly that she might have missed it if she blinked. A bronzor formed, its hexagon-like shape turning to its trainer, staring at him with its almost creepy look.

"Bronzor, flash," he drawled, not stopping his pace. Chance crept a few feet behind him, hiding behind stalagmites and other things to keep herself out of view.

There was a burst of light, and suddenly the whole cave became illuminated. She squinted; the sudden light had her disoriented for just a moment. But she had to push onwards.

A few more minutes, they walked, and now there was no outside light whatsoever. Saturn stopped and looked around briefly, never actually turning his neck more than a few degrees. He seemed satisfied, though, and took out the pokeball that housed the bronzor. "Bronzor, return."

The bronzor faded with the light, leaving Chance blind as a zubat. She couldn't see _anything_. She sat still, waiting for her vision to come back. It never did.

"Chance O'Rien."

She froze.

"I know you're there. Come out."

As if being pulled by an invisible string, Chance slowly slid out from hiding, face still frozen in a state of shock. She had been found out.

"Do you think I'm stupid? That I wouldn't remember you? Do you think that I never saw you, all those years ago?"

Chance gulped, and nodded. She knew he couldn't see her, but she felt the need to respond anyway.

"Well, I'm not," he snapped, and Chance drew back, pressing her back against the wall.

"You thought you were so sly, hiding just out of range," he began, and Chance could hear him coming closer. "You thought you were getting closer and closer to that useless clefairy, but you never got past the starting line."

Chance had slumped against the wall, sitting on the floor. "The clefairy's dead, now, your old man with it," he continued spitefully, and Chance could tell he was close.

"…No," Chance breathed, tears forming in her eyes.

"Yes," he continued, circling her.

How was he walking so cleanly? He never mis-stepped, he never stumbled. It was as if he could see perfectly well in the dark.

"Really, you were simply making my job easier," he prolonged, and Chance could feel his grin burning into her face. "It's quite easy to learn about a stalker when they're so close you can learn everything about them."

Chance shrunk from him. "No… you don't know anything about me!" she countered weakly, trying to inch away from his ice cold gaze.

"He stopped her, stepping on her wrist with such force, if he stepped any harder he might just have broken it. "Your name is Chance Nicole O'Rien. Your favorite color is blue. You're allergic to nail polish remover. You shirk work almost every day. You own a skitty and an aipom. You set out to avenge your father by finding his clefairy."

Chance was quiet, although tears flew freely down her face. All of the last three years… wasted. She was at his mercy. If he wanted to break every bone in her body, he could.

They stayed like that for a few minutes; Chance pressed against the wall, silently sobbing, while he stood with one foot on top of her, smirking in triumph.

"Get up," he demanded after a few moments. When she didn't respond right away, he jerked her up forcefully with her free wrist. Chance obeyed like a ragdoll: she had been stricken with too much at once. Her father was dead. She had wasted the past three years of her life. She had _failed_.

And she was about to get hit with more.

He pulled her roughly to him, in something resembling to a loose embrace. Her eyes grew wide and she let out a startled 'eep', her eyes had adjusted just enough to see the faint outline of the 'G' that seemed to gleam in the nonexistent light. And then he grasped her chin cogently and faced her upwards, before crashing into her with a kiss.

It wasn't playful, it wasn't needy. It was more… _punishment_. His tongue explored her mouth for a few moments, while she tried to push him away. She was too weak, though, and he was too strong. She could barely see those deep blue eyes, the ones that would scar her for even more reasons.

And, in less than ten seconds, it was over.

He ended it abruptly, backing off and turning away. Chance slumped to the ground, numb. She felt violated. She listened as his footsteps walked away, deeper into the ruins.

Chance stared into the darkness for the longest time. He had to be eight years older than her. And yet…

She couldn't tell left from right. There was no hope in finding her way out, not until morning where there was some light.

Tired and grief-stricken, Chance curled up on her side and cried herself to sleep.

_Author's Note: Wow! That was intended to be two pages or less, and it ended up as eight. Just a quick (or it was supposed to be, anyway) little one-shot about my OC, Chance, and her past 'relationship' (if you could call it that) with a certain team galactic commander. Hey, cut him some slack. It's not as if he can go snog Mars or Jupiter whenever he wants. I call it Stalkershipping, or SACL. :D R&R, please!_


End file.
